


ain't no mountain high enough

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “You’d take it all away,” Yondu said, staring at Stakar. “You’d take everythin’ away from me, unless I ignore the shit that’s been happenin’. The shit Ihelpedmake happen.”“Yes.”





	ain't no mountain high enough

“Cap’n, if that brat don’ stop playin’ that damned music so loud, I’m gonna _break_ his music player.” 

Yondu rolled his eyes, turning to his first mate with a flat look. After a moment, Kraglin deflated, looking away from his captain and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Jus’ sayin’, sir.” 

“Seems t’me yer almost _worried_ ‘bout the kid.” 

“Jus’ don’ wan’te bring ‘im back to his daddy damaged-like, y’know.” 

Yondu pressed his lips together, looking away from Kraglin and continuing his march down one of the _Eclector’s_ many hallways and walkways. Kraglin followed after him, a silent skinny shadow with enough sense not to say anything else. 

They had picked the kid up only a few days before, and he hadn’t stopped screaming or running in the opposite direction every time either he or one of his more-alien crewmates walked passed him. It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to have any kind of translator chip (how ass-backwards was Terra, anyway?), so he couldn’t understand the crew none. 

What Yondu hadn’t told _anyone_ , though, was that they weren’t bringin’ this one back to the jackass. None of them needed to know why, neither. 

“Kid still in the supply closet?” 

“Ran in there minute he saw Horuz and Oblo. Turned ‘is music up loud as it could get so he couldn’t hear them none, either. You’d think he’d be okay with Horuz and Oblo! They’s some of the _nicer_ crew t’im!” 

“He can’t tell none, he don’t understand a word outta their mouths. We gotta get that translator chip in his head.” 

“Hard t’do when he won’t let no one near ‘im.” 

Yondu nodded stiffly, finally turning down the right passageway he wanted. He stopped, looking back at Kraglin expectantly. Kraglin stepped back after a second and nodded. 

“I’ll set the coordinates, sir. Where’re we headed?” 

Yondu appreciated that Kraglin wasn’t assumin’ nothing. Made it easier when his first mate wasn’t giving him no trouble. 

“We’ll head t’Knowhere. They got clinics there, good’uns. Won’ ask too many questions when we bring ‘im in.” 

“Cap’n.” 

The Xandarian left, then, twisting on his heel and gangly-limbed marching back down the way they’d come. After looking around to make sure no one else was around, Yondu went on over to the supply closet door that was shut tight and likely to be locked. 

Was smart, really, finding a small place that he could lock himself in – it’s what Yondu would’a done had he been in the same position. 

Too bad he knew the override code. 

The door slid open with a hiss, but the terran boy hadn’t noticed yet. Just like Kraglin said, his music was so loud it blocked out anything else. Explained why he wasn’t facin’ the door when Yondu decided to pry it open. 

Reaching forward, he yanked the headphones off of the kid’s head; he yelped, twisting around with a scowl before noticing who it was. He opened his mouth to scream, and Yondu reached forward and clamped his hand over the brat’s mouth. 

“I know you don’t understand me none, boy,” Yondu said, looking at him with narrowed red eyes. The terran shook under his hand, green eyes wide and just shy of terrified. There was still a bit of defiance in his gaze – the same defiance that had made him bite Tullk’s hand the minute he’d grabbed onto him. Yondu’s Yaka arrow introducin’ itself had made him let go _real_ quick. “But you can understand tone, surely.” 

He dragged the boy out of the closet, marching him down the hallway; hand still over his mouth so he didn’t make any noise. He fought, because of course he did, but he was only small and skinny and barely wider than Charlie-27’s thigh. He was nothin’, really, compared to some of the kids he’d packed up and shipped ‘cross the galaxy. 

Something twitched at the back of his head, he couldn’t rightly tell what it was, but he ignored it all the same. It felt sentimental, and he didn’t have no time for things like sentimentalities. 

He made it to his quarters without none of his crew noticin’ the spectacle, draggin’ the boy in there and shoving him into the middle before closing the door. When he turned around, the boy was still watching him with wide, wary eyes, but at least he weren’t screaming. 

Kid’s vocals got on his nerves. 

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ t’ya,” he said after a standoff where the boy seemed to be waiting for him to do somethin’ and Yondu stood waiting to see if he’d start makin’ a fuss again. “Yer gon’ stay here. I’m keepin’ this,” he held the music player up, the headphones still dangling on his fingertips, “until you and I can speak t’one another proper-like. None of this mimin’ bullshit.” 

The boy still looked terrified, and Yondu sighed, rubbing at his eyes before he pointed over to his desk and the chair. “Sit.” 

The boy scrambled, sitting as quickly as he could; an obedient little pet if he were a sick man. 

“Don’t move.” 

He then turned and left again, closing the door and lockin’ it behind him. 

He had a call to make. 

~+~

“Yondu, it’s been a while.” 

Yondu sat up a little, looking into the face of Stakar Ogord and feelin’ that usual surge of gratitude whenever he saw the man’s face, along with the sour feeling of owin’ the man one. Which, of course, he _did_. But he didn’t like feelin’ it. 

“Stakar,” he said, pressing his fist to his chest in the salute. Stakar nodded, and he slouched back again. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” 

“What is it, Yondu?” 

“I made a mistake.” 

Stakar raised an eyebrow but didn’t say nothin’, waving for him to continue; Yondu sighed. He got to talkin’, telling him about the kids and a meetin’ with a man who called hisself a celestial and was actually a damned planet. Told him about how he’d been approached to help escort his kid to ‘im, and he thought nothin’ of it; escortin’ work wasn’t out of line of a Ravager’s work, at the end of the day, and it paid well. 

But then there was the second kid, and the third, and the fourth. And he never saw any sign of the other ones. 

“I didn’t realize what was goin’ on,” Yondu said, scratching the bridge of his nose and avoiding Stakar’s gaze, “not until I put the pieces together. Don’t know what the jackass wants with the kids, but I don’t think he’s findin’ it. Don’t think he’s lettin’ ‘em leave, neither.” 

“You’re tellin’ me you’re dealin’ in kids, Yondu?” 

Stakar’s voice had gone flat, and Yondu chanced a quick look at his mentor; inwardly flinching at the cold look directed at him. 

“It ain’t slavery, if that’s what you’re askin’.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Look,” Yondu shook his head, sitting up and leaning forward. “I made a mistake. I’ll own it. I didn’t call here fer judge and jury, though.” 

“What did you call for, then?” 

“Jackass sent me coordinates for his next kid. Didn’t even bother askin’, just assumed I’d go an’ do it. Some terran brat. Went and got ‘im.” 

“You went and _got him_ , even knowing what you know now? What the hell, Yondu?” 

“Look! I ain’t givin’ him over, not knowin’ what I know now! I wanna make sure jackass doesn’t get his hands on ‘im!” 

Stakar stared at him for a long moment, and Yondu waited to see what he’d say. Hopefully advice – maybe advice with a few choice insults thrown in, but he’d gotten worse over the course of his life. He’d handle it. He just needed a bit of help, was all. 

“Take him back.” 

Yondu blinked, and Stakar sighed; lifting his hand to cover his eyes and rub at his temples. It was a look he was mightily familiar with; a look he’d started adoptin’ every time someone on his crew said somethin’ well and truly stupid. 

“Take him _back_ , Yondu. All you got for the others kids is transactions, and those are easy enough to just... forget about. No one else has to know what you’ve been doin’. Just take him back, and we can pretend none of this happened. I’ll be keepin’ a closer eye on you, but I think that’s fair, all said.” 

“But—Stakar! I can’t just take’im back, his old man’ll just find someone else to come grab ‘im! Someone who don’t know, or don’t rightly care!” 

“That isn’t your _problem_ , Yondu.” 

“It is my problem!” 

Yondu stood up, and Stakar leaned back; he wished for a second he wasn’t just talkin’ to a screen, but to the real man, just so he could grab onto his coat lapels and shake him into understanding. 

“I know what he’s doin’! Y’think I can just step back and forget about it?” 

“We’re _Ravagers_ , Yondu,” Stakar said, leaning forward; closer to the screen. Yondu could feel his fin heating up, and he took a deep breath and told hisself to calm the hell down. He was glad he was alone in the comm room, in any case. “We ain’t supposed to get emotionally involved with none of our jobs. Even the screw ups. Now take the terran boy back, or I’m gonna have to do somethin’ I don’t want t’do.” 

“And what’s that, ‘xactly?” Yondu asked, sneering; crooked teeth on display.

(The battlemasters had filed the slaves’ teeth, to make them more menacing on the field of battle. Little bodies with sharp teeth and weapons, running into the middle of conflict, were a hell of a sight. Larger bodies with precision weapons and sharp, bloodied teeth, even more so.)

“I’m gonna have to tell the others. We’re gonna have to exile you. Do you want that, Yondu?” Stakar raised his eyebrows, and Yondu narrowed his eyes. “You’d lose your seat on the council. You’d be _forbidden_ from comin’ into Ravager territory. No planet we frequent would be free t’you. No other faction would even look at you. Aleta, Charlie-27, Martinex? They’d never talk t’you again.” 

“You’d take it all away,” Yondu said, staring at Stakar. “You’d take everythin’ away from me, unless I ignore the shit that’s been happenin’. The shit I _helped_ make happen.” 

“Yes,” Stakar said gravely, folding his hands over his stomach. It pissed him off some that Stakar never stood for conversations. As if he was too good to stand, even if they weren’t face-to-face. It was the principal of the thing, wasn’t it? 

He shook his head, lookin’ away from Stakar and turning his back on him briefly; bringin’ his hands up to rub at his face and think for a minute. It was a thing to say that the conversation wasn’t goin’ like he’d wanted. 

He thought about the life he’d built for himself from the nothin’ he came from; thought about his ship and its eclectic mishmash, about his crew who Stakar had assured that he was a good’un to follow. Thought about Kraglin, and Tullk, Horuz and Oblo; about how they trusted him and followed him ‘cause they knew he would do what was best. 

He thought about Aleta and her wicked-sharp sense of humour; about Charlie-27 and the warm acceptance he’d given him the moment he pried the slave-cuffs off his wrists. Thought about Martinex, who prodded at him until he snapped, teeth and all, and all he’d done was laugh and say ‘so you _do_ react, do ya?’. 

Thought about Mainframe, who delighted in seein’ him every time he stopped by; about Krugarr, who was always good for silent company if he needed a place to think; all of them friends, and at one time teammates, before he went off on his own and screwed up left and right. 

And then he thought about a little, frightened terran boy, sittin’ at his desk chair, waitin’ to see if the big blue alien was gonna eat him. Thought about a living planet with shittons of money and no children in sight. 

It was probably one of the worst moments of his goddamn life, and he’d been in some of the bloodiest battles the Kree had ever involved themselves in. 

“...I ain’t gon’ leave a boy t’die because I wanted t’keep my life simple. I ain’t gonna ignore the fact that I got blood on my hands and bones in my floorboards ‘cause I want t’keep the things y’gave me, Stakar.” He turned back to the screen, watching as Stakar’s heart seemed to break all over his face, and Yondu gritted his teeth. “You couldn’t leave a slave to rot in a cell – couldn’t help but give that filthy thing a chance at bein’ a person and not an animal. An’ if y’wanted someone who would just _ignore_ all this, then maybe you should’a, Stakar.” 

“Yondu, you’re makin’ a _mistake_ ,” Stakar said, and here he finally stood up. He stood up and he walked closer to the screen, and Yondu matched him step-for-step until they were as face-to-face as two people could get on opposite ends of the galaxy. “You don’t know this kid from a rat on the street. What’s he mean to you? _Nothing_. Take him back, come back home. We’ll _talk_.” 

“I’m done talkin’, Stakar,” Yondu said, shaking his head and takin’ a step back. “I’m done talkin’ about somethin’ I ain’t gonna do. I’m keepin’ this one. Gonna keep ‘im movin’, make ‘im hard t’find. Make anyone searchin’ regret it. Just like you did fer me.” 

“That was _different_.” 

“I ain’t _seein’_ no _difference_ , Stakar. If you ain’t gon’ help me, then do what you gotta do. But don’t expect me to turn my back on my fuck-ups and ignore ‘em. I’ve been _doin’_ that, my whole life. And all it took me was down a bloody path.” 

“Then I haven’t got a choice,” Stakar said, and he stepped back, too; stepped back, arms held out to his sides, shaking his head slowly as he backed away from a friend and a son and Yondu wondered if he made the right choice at all. “I don’t wanna see your face after this, Yondu. I don’t wanna hear about you in our spaces – in our haunts, on our boards lookin’ for work. I don’t wanna see you at the table; I don’t wanna see you _near_ the others. An’ if we ever cross paths, you best know that it’ll be for the worse.” 

“Yer gon’ regret showin’ me the goddamn door one’a these days, Stakar,” Yondu growled, and Stakar just shook his head again. “Yer gon’ regret it, y’hear?” 

“Not before you regret ruinin’ what life you scrapped up for a kid you don’t even know.” 

The screen went black, and Yondu swore, punching the console beside him and barely flinching when it sparked. He then reached out and pressed the button to comm the bridge. 

“Sir?” 

“Got those coordinates punched in?” 

“Ready to go on yer word, sir.” 

“Good. Get us goin’. An’ get the crew t’gether in the mess. I got an announcement.” 

“Yes, Cap’n.” 

He let off on the button, turned, and left the comm room in a flurry of leather. 

~+~

The mess was a load of noise the moment he walked in, but as soon as his crew noticed he was there, it died away. It always made him marvel at the power his presence had on his crew; it was different than the silences that would happen in the slave pens, when he’d be shoved back into his cage with the others and they’d notice he was there. 

Back then, it was pure fear: Yondu had been good, one of the goddamn best the Kree had groomed, and he kept gettin’ better if only to keep breathin’ another day. Now, though, it was respect. 

He wondered how long it’d last. 

“Alright, I’m sure yer all wonderin’ why I’ve got ya lumped in here all at once,” he said, walking through the aisle made for him by his crew. Kraglin stepped up just behind him as he passed his first mate, and then Tullk, someone who came on Aleta Ogord’s word that he was decent, followed after. Two of his most loyal and he appreciated it. He did. He just didn’t know if they’d stick around. 

“So here it is, plain an’ simple: yer lookin’ at a Ravager exile.” He turned, holding his hands out, and the silence turned into the silence of the dead. He smiled grimly, but pushed on. “Stakar Ogord don’ like what I’m doin’ or how I’m handlin’ things. Don’ like that I ain’t followin’ his word blindly. An’ tha’s fine. But I know many of ya came onto my crew on his word, along with some others’, an’ this li’l announcement’s just t’give ya a choice.” 

He paused, looking at each and every one of them, before taking a small breath and continuing. 

“You can stay on, exile yerselves with me, an’ we’ll live how only Ravagers can. Or y’can leave, go back to the other factions, find a cap’n who ain’t an exile. I ain’t forcin’ no one on my crew who don’t wanna be here. We’re headed t’Knowhere: when we get there, y’can make yer choice. If yer stayin’, or if yer leavin’. S’up t’you. Trip’s gonna be a couple’a hours ‘cause we got a few jumps t’make. Y’can think on it, make yer decision. ‘Till we get there, I want things runnin’ normal. Got it?”

He was met with a murmur of general consent, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“Wha’ was that, now?” 

“Yes, Cap’n!” 

He nodded, waving his hand in a general dismissal, and everyone left in different directions. He looked back at Kraglin, seein’ the kid staring at him with a little frown. 

“Tha’ was aimed at you, too, Kraglin,” he said, glancing over to see Tullk already walking away, his expression thoughtful. It’d be a shame to see him go, but he wasn’t forcin’ anyone on his ship. He was better than that. Not by much, but he _was_. 

“Cap’n,” Kraglin said, noddin’, before he too was walkin’ away. Yondu rubbed a hand down his face, closin’ his eyes, before he headed back to his quarters and the kid still waitin’ there. 

When he unlocked and opened his door, he looked over at the desk to see the boy curled up in the chair, arms wrapped around his shins and eyes closed; soft snores fillin’ the space like a broken air ventilation system. He stared at the kid who had just effectively ruined his entire career as a Ravager. 

He then shrugged off his leathers, drapin’ it over the kid’s sleepin’ self, grabbed a datapad from his desk, and dropped onto his bed to start lookin’ for jobs outside’a the Ravager job boards. 

He’d have to start findin’ new ways to get paid, after all. 

~+~

They docked in Knowhere a few hours later, and Yondu shook the kid awake, grabbin’ him by the shoulder and draggin’ him through the hallways to the docking doors. 

Crew passed him by, some with nothin’ but their weapons and a little baggie with their credit chits, some with bags and bags of belongin’s. He didn’t make eye contact with any of ‘em, only stoppin’ when Kraglin and Tullk stepped in front of him. He stared at them expectantly. 

“’Bout thirty or so crew’s leavin’, Cap’n,” Kraglin said, punching his fist to his chest, and Yondu tilted his head. “...I ain’t.” 

“I’m not leavin’, either, lad,” Tullk said, placin’ a hand on the butt of his weapon and looking at Yondu plainly. He was an older man, older than Yondu by a few good years, and had a clear head on his shoulders. He would’ve been first mate had he asked, honestly. “Horuz, Oblo, and a few others are stickin’ around, too.” He paused, looking at Yondu contemplatively, before smiling; Yondu slowly grinning back. “We know you’ve got your reasons, lad. Good ones, too, I’d bet.” 

“...Glad t’hear it,” Yondu said after a moment. The boy fidgeted, and he squeezed his shoulder a little to make him hold still. “Right, then – Tullk, go tell Houz and Oblo they’re in charge of recruitin’ some new crew. I wanna leave this port with as much crew as when I arrived. Then I wan’ you t’come meet Kraglin an’ me at the clinic. We’re gettin’ this one,” he brought the boy forward a little, the kid scuffing his shoes and glaring at the ground, “a translator chip. Gettin’ tired of not bein’ understood, if I’m makin’ myself plain.” 

“Aye, sir,” Tullk said, pushing his fist to his chest before turnin’ in the direction Yondu assumed Horuz and Oblo had gone. He then looked over at Kraglin, jerking his head, and the two of them (plus their fidgety guest) started towards one of Knowhere’s many clinics at the edge of the city. 

“What’re we gon’ do ‘bout the kid, Cap’n?” Kraglin asked after a few minutes of quiet walking. Yondu sighed, pullin’ the kid closer to him when he tried to wander off, before looking back at Kraglin. 

“He’s small. Skinny – can get int’places we can’t. Good for thievin’,” he said after a moment. Kraglin looked at him for a long moment, and Yondu was certain that a few missin’ pieces had fallen into place; but all Kraglin did was nod his understanding. “I need you t’keep watch while we’re in the clinic, make sure nothin’ happens that shouldn’t. When Tullk gets back, tell ‘im we need to get the kid proper clothes. An’ then we’re only stickin’ around for an hour before we’re off again. Enough time to get some new blood on the ship and get movin’.” 

“Sir?” 

“We can’t stick around any one place fer too long, Kraglin,” Yondu said with a frown. “We can’t be easy t’locate.” 

They came up to the clinic before Kraglin could say anything else. When they walked inside, they were met with a nurse who Kraglin had contacted before they’d arrived, and led into a back room. Kraglin took position outside of the door, and Yondu went in with the kid. 

“So you’re here for a translator chip?” the nurse asked, turning large white eyes to him. She was a pale purple colour with long, fleshy bits on her head the same shade that looked like leaves. Overall pretty, but a bit cold for his tastes – and the kid backed away from her the moment she stepped towards him. “Oh, poor thing, he’s terrified! Where’s he from?” 

“Terra,” Yondu said, glancin’ down at the kid now pressed against his legs. He squeezed his shoulder again, and the boy looked up at him before lookin’ back at the nurse. “His momma’s terran. He’s only half, though.” 

“Oh, a terran-Centaurian cross? I’ve never seen one!” 

Yondu frowned, but didn’t say nothin’ to correct the woman. Better that than the truth, at any rate. And besides, who’d be lookin’ for a terran-Centaurian, right? 

“Sure – just don’t be spreadin’ it around. He’s been livin’ with his momma, and Terra’s all backwards and behind the times. It’s a bit difficult-like t’talk to the boy when he don’t understand ya none, y’know?” 

“Oh, I can only imagine.” She smiled at him, then, and he smiled thinly back. “I’ll go get the doctor right away. We’ll fix you right up, sweetie,” she added to the boy, leaning down to look at him kindly. “Soon you’ll understand all the sounds around you, and life will be so much easier!” 

Yondu snorted as she left. Easier his _ass_. 

The nurse was only gone for a couple of minutes. The doctor came in, then, a Xandarian by the look of him, and the boy watched him warily as he approached. Yondu watched him, as well, sizin’ him up and judgin’ whether or not to trust him. 

“It’s a standard procedure,” the doctor was saying, pulling out a set of gloves; he waved to the tray that the nurse was wheeling in, and Yondu saw the translator chip and the little machine that would inject it into the kid’s neck. “Should be mostly painless. If the boy could sit on the table and keep still?” 

“I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, doc,” Yondu said, but he grabbed the boy under the armpits and hoisted him up onto the table all the same. The boy squawked, grabbed onto Yondu’s coat, and looked at him with wide eyes. Yondu frowned, leaning down to look at him proper. “Listen here, boy,” he said, quietly, so that the doctor and nurse didn’t hear him, “they’s jus’ gonna give ya somethin’ t’help. I know you ain’t understandin’ me, but ya gotta trust me on this. Don’t move.” 

He kept eye contact with the boy as the doctor approached, wiping some kind of wipe on a spot on his neck before holdin’ the little machine right up to his skin. With little warning, he pulled a little trigger, and it punched the tiny chip through the boy’s skin into the nerves, tanglin’ all up with ‘em so that the chip and his brain could work together to make sense of the garbled mess he was hearing around him. 

The boy whined, tears popping into his eyes, and Yondu sighed and ruffled his hair, a little on the rough side. He glanced at the doctor. 

“How long’s it usually take t’get workin’?” 

“Well, it should only be a couple of minutes. His chip has to start cataloguing all the different languages. When he starts talking to you, your chip will do the same for the terran language. You’ll be on the same footing shortly.” 

“Right,” Yondu nodded, turning back to the boy. “You understandin’ me yet, boy?” 

The boy opened his mouth, sayin’ something Yondu didn’t rightly understand. Yondu looked at him as if to say ‘come again’, and the boy tried again, until after a minute or so actual words started to filter into Yondu’s hearing. 

“—I just want to go home, I want to leave, I don’t know why you took me or what you did to me but I just want to go _home_ , please, please, _please_ take me home.” 

“There it is,” Yondu said, and the boy flinched as Yondu clapped him on the shoulder. “Now we can get t’business. Thanks fer the time, doc,” he added to the doctor, who still wasn’t looking at them; and that was good, he was payin’ him to be discreet. The nurse had left some time before, probably to talk to Kraglin about payment. “We’ll pay ya once we get back to our ship.” 

“Of course,” the doctor said, looking over at him. “My nurse tells me he’s a terran-Centaurian mix. Quite unique.” 

Yondu narrowed his eyes, and the boy went quiet on the table; listenin’ to a conversation he finally understood. 

“...I’ll pay ya extra to forget y’ever heard that, doc,” he said softly. The doctor smiled, nodding once, before he left. Kraglin came into the room, then, scratching at his ear. 

“So the boy understands us now, Cap’n?” 

“Sure does. It’ll take ‘im a bit to get all the languages, he ain’t been cataloguin’ them long. But should make life easier, at any rate.” 

“...Are you my dad?” 

Yondu twitched, lookin’ down at the boy again. He was staring up at him with wide, green eyes, and his face was similar to that jackass’s. It made him curl his lips back, and the boy shrank away. 

“I ain’t your father, boy,” he said, then, stepping back. The boy hopped off the table, rubbing at his neck, and Yondu grabbed onto his shoulder. “My name’s Yondu Udonta, an’ I’m the captain of the ship you’ve been on. We’s Ravagers, see. An’ yer gon’ be one, too.” 

“...Can’t I just go home?” 

Yondu shook his head, lookin’ at Kraglin. Kraglin was keeping a neutral face, though; always smart enough to know when not to say somethin’. 

“Ain’t no home for you on Terra no more, boy,” he said finally. “We’re billions of lightyears away, an’ there ain’t no goin’ back.” 

The boy went quiet, then, eyes wide before he looked down at his shoes. He sniffed, and Yondu was certain he was cryin’. He groaned, pushing the boy forward; meeting up with Tullk who was waiting just outside. 

“Kraglin tell ya wha’ t’do?” 

“Aye, sir,” Tullk said, looking down at the boy. “Alright, son, we’re goin’ t’get you some clothes. Proper ones. Those ones won’t last you a week out here.” The boy didn’t show he heard him, and Tullk frowned before ruffling up his hair; smiling when he looked up at him. “What’s your name, son?” 

“...Peter,” he said, voice quiet and a little broken, “it’s Peter Quill.” 

“Alright, Peter,” Tullk nodded, placing a hand between his shoulders, “let’s find some clothes your size.” 

Peter started to follow him, only stopping and looking back at Yondu as if he remembered something. 

“Can I have my Walkman back?” 

“Yer what now?” 

“My Walkman – my music player. You took it from me earlier.” 

Yondu blinked, having completely forgotten about the little piece of tech; hand going to rest on it where he’d clipped it to his belt. He thought about just handin’ it over, giving the kid that bit of comfort. But then he shook his head, smirkin’ a little; Kraglin and Tullk recognizing the playful look in his eye, even if the kid only saw maliciousness. 

“Y’can have it back when y’can get it back yerself,” Yondu said, and Peter’s eyes widened; his face fell into a scowl, and it looked like he was about to yell something, but Tullk pushed him forward into the crowds. Yondu set his hands on his hips, and Kraglin chuckled beside him. 

“It’s gon’ get interestin’ from here on out with him, ain’t it, Cap’n?” 

Yondu snorted, shaking his head slowly. 

“That’s one way t’put it.” He looked back at his first mate, fingers tapping against the Walkman and expression thoughtful. “Let’s go see what bunch of assholes Horuz and Oblo recruited, huh?” 

“Cap’n!”


End file.
